


Anthem

by b337673291



Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Apocalypse, M/M, Pacific Rim AU, Pining, Slow Burn, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/b337673291/pseuds/b337673291
Summary: Jiwon and Hanbin conquer one battle after another with the mighty and invincible jaegerAnthem.Until one day,they don’t.
Relationships: Kim Hanbin | B.I/Kim Jiwon | Bobby
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	Anthem

“You’ll goddamn kill me one day, Jiwon.” Hanbin exclaimed. 

There had been no bite in his words, merely a futile attempt at playful exasperation to mask the relief in his voice and the fondness in his eyes. It wasn’t that those tells were easy for one to notice, it’s just that during those days, after they had gotten their drivesuits removed by the crew and their bodies had been checked in the infirmary for any signs of external and internal injuries, Jiwon felt that the neural handshake had remained active, although only faintly. Like their minds were still somehow melded together and all their senses still overlapped, _still as one_ , even outside of the cockpit. 

His eyes had raked over the other like he always did, head to toe and unabashed. It had become his favorite post-mission activity once the hard protective shells of their suits had been taken off and only the dark breathable cloth that clung tightly to their skin was left. Hanbin had burst out laughing, clutching at his sides, and Jiwon’s ribs had trembled like the cackles in the room were actually his. 

Back then, Jiwon thought that this kind of connection between them would last until their hairs were thin and gray, and something as simple as holding out a hand wouldn’t be necessary, not when they’re already both in one headspace, knowing each other's every thought, feeling, emotion, and dreams. He’d allow himself to soak in that wishful thought, even when he’s completely aware that living past thirty is much closer to a fool's dream than to reality, considering the nature of what they do and the era that they're in. 

Kaiju attacks at that time were few and far between and they would have time for simple celebrations after a successful fight. They’d change to their regular wear, meet with the marshal and a few deputies for official commendations as well as brief evaluations, and soon there’d be food in the cafeteria halls — maybe even a few bottles of wine when they weren’t so scarce. Jiwon and Hanbin would come and give high-fives and shout hurrahs but they would often find themselves eating somewhere outside the little victory party. 

They were at the deck of Hong Kong’s shatterdome, sitting on the edge of an elevated steel plank with a pair of stainless trays lying flat between the two of them. They had been devouring the food they brought from the serving station while they watched from afar some of the mechanics work together in engraving a new gold line on the front of Anthem’s crimson armor, adding to the tally of their hard-earned triumphs like a _trophy._ It had always been entertaining to see how a single stroke needed a team of at least five but with how gigantic the jaeger is, even twenty people would seem like a cluster of ants hanging around its chest. 

“Lucky number thirteen, huh.” Hanbin muttered, both cheeks filled with the barbecue-filled steamed buns he had been munching earlier. 

It was their thirteenth deployment. Their thirteenth kill. _Their thirteenth win._

“In here it'd be, I guess,” Jiwon replied after slurping loudly on his noodles. “Shame we had to destroy _Baby Hatred_. It’s the first ever Category III kaiju, you know.” 

“My eyes work perfectly fine, Jiwon. That thing was on a whole different level. Loads bigger than _Shou-mi_.” That was the kaiju they fought back in Nagasaki a few months prior. It had been the record-holder in strength and size, that was until this new one the breach had brought out. “It could probably destroy Seoul with a swing of its tail. Who even had the fucking brilliant idea to call it a baby?” 

“Must be Donghyuk, you know how much he adores them!” Jiwon grinned. He didn’t have to turn his head to know that Hanbin’s lips were curled the same way in amusement. And that he would also roll his eyes right after. 

“Stop teasing the guy! Donghyuk's been helping so much with the research at the lab already! Even Katie seems to be impressed by his work.” 

Finished with his bun, Hanbin reached out for the metal cup on his tray, drumming his fingers against the side while he waited in silence for Jiwon to empty his bowl. When the latter was about done, no more of the noodles and only the rich broth left to gulp down, Hanbin spoke up again. 

“He told me we don't seem to have an upper limit to what's coming. These monsters will just get bigger and bigger.” 

“Donghyuk must be wetting his pants in excitement, then,” Jiwon responded in humor as he set his bowl and chopsticks aside. 

“ _Jiwon!_ ” Hanbin huffed, trying to keep his voice calm, “if what he said is proven true then it's only a matter of time before we get a kaiju that would be too tough for the jaegers, even for Anthem." 

The first time a kaiju appeared, it felt like the heavens had forsaken the world. An unknown monster from the depths of the sea, bringing nothing but destruction and despair. It was hell on earth, and humanity had no other choice but to create their own gods that would defend and protect them. 

In order to carry on their survival, all wars between men were halted, and all resources and efforts were put into research. Hence came the _jaeger,_ ginormous slabs of metal assembled with the most advanced technology, that gave the people the chance to finally fight back. They adapted, they learned, and eventually, _they started to win_. 

Jaegers ultimately became a symbol of hope, Anthem especially, with its exceptional and undefeated track record, so to hear that these monsters would only come back worse had been outright daunting, if not devastating. 

“Are you scared?” Jiwon asked as he picked up his own cup and his fingers soon started to tap lightly against the thin metal surface. He had forgotten whose little habit it was initially, Hanbin’s or his, but then again, they had already been drifting for quite some time so picking up each other’s quirks was only to be expected. Some kind of minor side-effect that both of them didn’t really mind. 

“No,” Hanbin answered, “but we’ll probably need tons of good luck.” 

Jiwon couldn't stop himself from barking in laughter, shaking his head. The loud echoes had filled in the hangar, making a couple of the workers pause from what they were doing to look in their direction. 

“It wasn’t superstition that brought in the kills. It's my damn good strategy, Hanbin.” 

The thrumming against one of the cups paused and Jiwon had known then that Hanbin tensed up due to the sound of his name coming out of his mouth. Had known that the next time they get hooked to the system, he would come across this exact moment but in Hanbin's point of view and he would vaguely feel how the blood had rushed to the other's ears and how the hair at his nape had stood on its end. And that he would relish at the thought and be smug about it without saying a word, and soon, they would both briefly feel irritation and embarrassment bubbling up in Hanbin's guts. 

"Cocky bastard," Hanbin grumbled weakly. 

He had taken a quick sip of his drink and the other had followed suit. Shortly after, Jiwon had turned his head to finally face Hanbin, and Hanbin, with lips still on the rim of his cup, had easily met his gaze, looking back at him straight in the eye. 

The corners of Jiwon's mouth pulled up to a wide smile. 

"Tell me, then, when have my plans ever been wrong?" 

A few days have already passed since Jiwon made a mistake, a plan that went terribly _wrong_ , and yet this is the memory his mind chose to mull over repeatedly. 

He couldn't figure out why since there's nothing out of the ordinary about it. All the things he told Hanbin then, he's already said a hundred times over, both before and after _Baby Hatred's_ demise. And Hanbin voicing out words of caution wasn’t unusual in any way either, because he's always been the one to warn him often on many things, whether in or out of the cockpit. It’s one version among countless banters and Jiwon wonders why this is the one that stuck. 

Perhaps it's the sight of Hanbin with a blooming bruise on his temple, likely from when Anthem defended its head when _Baby Hatred_ zoomed in with a sudden blow from the side that he controlled. 

Earlier that day, hours before they had been alerted of the kaiju’s presence, Ji Eun had spontaneously decided to give Hanbin’s hair a good trim and eventually went overboard, styling it up with the spare wax they found in the stockroom. His hair had remained swept back even after the fight, showcasing a fair forehead and the handful strands at the crown of his head dyed a bright red, amazingly vivid against his natural black locks under the cast of the ultramarine light overhead where they had been sitting as they ate. Jiwon’s eyes kept gravitating towards it and there had been a small nagging desire to lift up a hand and _touch_ , daring to think he could have his fingers gently travel from there down to his nape, knowing fully well that Hanbin would find his thought of inexplicable yearning in their next drift, and then he'd have something to be smug about, too. 

Or perhaps it's just the fact that Jiwon never did manage to hold Hanbin like how he wanted to that day, nor in all the days that followed afterwards. Not the side of his head nor the back of his neck. 

Regardless, Jiwon replays the scene in his head throughout the day, and then the next day, and the next, over and over. 

It’s coming close to a week when, to the doctor’s annoyance, he insisted he positions himself sideways in his bed, even when his broken ribs, nose, and arm have yet to completely recover, just so he could watch Hanbin at the other end of the room, hooked to various machines and half-mummified with the bandages, still comatosed. Jiwon would observe him as thoroughly as his heavily-medicated and still injured body would allow, searching for any sign that Hanbin would soon wake to consciousness, like for a slight twitch or a spasm, maybe a small hitch in his breath. It would be his daily routine and when he’s close to passing out himself, forced by the sedative in his bloodstream or just sheer exhaustion, he’d go back once more to that time they had in Hong Kong before he blacks out. 

Except this time, he’ll be tweaking a few of the parts. 

In his imagination, they would be sitting together, not two feet apart, but _closely,_ side-by-side, shoulders touching while their feet dangled freely at the edge of the metal platform. He'd feel Hanbin's warmth emanating right beside him, and Hanbin would feel his, and it’d be a different kind of warmth from what any of the hot food on their trays could offer — it’d be something that transcends far deeper into their bones. But still, they'd eat while they watch the group of men chuckle at each other as they append the gold line on Anthem's chestplate. In this fantasy that he created, Jiwon would never speak of the words Hanbin was wary about, he might not even talk at all, and instead, he’d just raise his hand and finally let the tips of his fingers touch Hanbin’s forehead, carefully run them through his hair, and trail down slowly and lightly to his nape. This time, he’d be able to feel Hanbin’s goosebumps rise at the contact, _skin on skin._

The next couple of weeks, for every single day that goes by, after he's done staring tirelessly at Hanbin's sleeping form, he’ll do just this. Recounting an altered memory and drinking off of its lie that’s both water and poison to his parched mind and soul. It's certainly foolish and admittedly painful, like putting a flimsy plaster on a large open wound and expecting it to heal like a graze. 

But Jiwon is desperate. 

He thinks that doing this is the closest he could be to holding on to a part of Hanbin in his mind, if drifting together and being in each other's heads would become nothing but a distant memory. That drowning in a made-up dream would convince himself that he had indeed held Hanbin's face in the palm of his hand. That he had indeed felt the tender flesh and the flushed skin. Soft. Warm. _Full of life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Kaiju** ㅡ huge alien monsters that had started rising from the breach/fissure in the ocean's floor of the Pacific
> 
> **Jaeger** ㅡ gigantic mecha/robots created to battle the kaiju, needs two rangers to operate so they could both take the strain to their brains together when piloting the robot
> 
> **Drifting** ㅡ the act in which two compatible rangers fuse their minds through what is called the _neural handshake_ in order to sync with the jaeger, requiring them to share memories, instinct, and emotions
> 
> **Shatterdome** ㅡ major base of jaeger operations
> 
>   
> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you'll hang around as the plot unravels! 
> 
> Special thanks to anonymous tiger aka [@bootlegtruth](https://twitter.com/bootleglies) for helping me out and being so supportive ever since, like before I even considered posting here on ao3! Please go and check all her amazing works [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bootlegtruth) if you still haven't done so (though honestly who wouldn't know about her brilliantly written fics?)
> 
> Feel free to send in your comments below or on curiouscat [@b337673291](https://curiouscat.qa/b337673291) especially if you have any question or feedback! I'm on twitter as well :) [@b337673291](https://twitter.com/b337673291)


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